by E. A. Darl
Avalon studied the scratches on the tabletop, tracing the patterns, letting her mind drift. Sadness welled within her, tightening her throat. She swallowed past the painful lump. Then her head came up. Her eyes blazed with determination.
“I do not believe they are dead. They were too clever for that. I intend to find them, and I will not stop until I do. So you can either help me, or get out of my way,” she said, a fierce light in her eyes.
At that moment the curtain was ripped back and Magnum stood with her fingers curled round the neck of four root beer bottles. She dropped them on the table and slid onto the bench beside Avalon, crowding her back into the corner.
“Oh look, the princess has claws,” Magnum smirked. She shared a quick glance with Trench, and then she flipped an envelope onto the table. “Here, these were supposed to go to your parents. Maybe you can make some sense of it all. It means nothing to us.”
She pushed it towards Avalon, who picked it up with trembling fingers. Finally some clues to work from! she thought. Avalon gave her a grateful smile then slipped her thumb under the flap and slid open the yellowing parchment.
Chapter 7
Tribal Trespass
The five hour walk still took the better part of an hour on the bike, as they were forced to slow down over the rugged and rapidly changing terrain. At first it was a hot, sandy ride across the level land, the breeze created by the speeding bike compensating for the intense heat of the sun as it climbed towards its zenith. Thirty minutes into the ride they reached the base of the first set of hills and began to climb, entering a stand of trees that brought blessed relief from the unrelenting rays. The trees were scattered and sparsely leafed, their hollowed trunks standing silent sentinel in a forest of dying green. Those few trees that lived on shivered with the passing of the bike, tossing curled yellow leaves its wake. Mitch could not determine the path that Pam sought. The forest looked the same to him.
“The biggest danger in these forests nowadays, is the threat of wild fire. Even the heat of the exhaust of this bike can spark a blaze. The wild fire risk is extreme, and this is one of the main reasons I walk everywhere. If the need wasn’t so urgent, I would have made us both walk.”
She winced as the bike backfired, craning her neck for a quick glance behind.
“Keep an eye on our back trail. Let me know if you spot any smoke,” she yelled, speeding up.
The invisible path crisscrossed the hillside, a snaking trail of rocks and fallen trees. Pam found a way around the barriers.
“You have been here before,” he yelled as she lurched to one side, to avoid a thick branch.
“How can you tell?” she yelled back, over her shoulder.
“You know where all the obstacles are. How did you memorize it so well?”
“I haven’t! These are all new!”
“What?” yelped Mitch, his grip tightening around her waist.
“The native residents who own this land have laid these traps. I am not worried about the ones I can see. It’s the ones I might miss!”
Pam steered the bike around a curve and suddenly there was no more trail.
“Shit!” she screamed as the bike spun out into empty space.
The chasm was not deep but it was steep and just wide enough. Mitch swore but his words were whipped away as bike and dual riders fell.
“Jump right!” Mitch yelled at the last second, and tossed himself off the back of the bike to the left as Pam rolled to the right.
They landed on the steep slope to a shower of rocks, quickly forming the center of the slide as the bike slid and flipped its way to the bottom of the incline. Somehow Mitch managed to keep his pack from being crushed but the angry humming increased in tempo with the jostling. He settled at the base of the ravine, half buried in scree, with Pam face down ten feet away.
“Pam! Are you ok?”
Pam pushed up out of the rocks. Her face was covered in grey dust and a trickle of blood ran from a long scratch down the side of her face. Her cheeks puffed out and with a groan, she pushed the rest of the way to a sitting position, testing her limbs.
“Yeah, nothing is broken. Just bruising. These old bones don’t bounce like they used to.”
Mitch groaned in sympathy as he pulled off a boot, emptying it of pebbles.
“I thought you knew these hills? How did you not know about the ravine?”
Pam glared at him and limped over to the bike, righting it.
“The ravine wasn’t here before, you dough head of a cop. Look up.”
Mitch followed her pointing arm and saw that the upper edge was freshly formed. Tree roots spilled out of the side, thin vegetative tentacles searching the air for sustenance. The ravine was not long. It ran for the length of a football field in the rough shape of the game ball.
“What could have caused this ravine? Better yet how are we going to get out?”
He tugged his boots back on and pushed to his feet, stamping them to settle them in place. He picked up the buzzing backpack and walked over to Pam, where she bent over the motorcycle, checking over the mechanics.
“How’s the bike?”
“Scratched,” she huffed, “but it will live. It’s operational. As to your first question, this is a dry sink hole. They have been popping up all over the region as the water table drops. First one I have driven into, though. As for your second question, look.”
She pointed to the rim of the crater on the opposite side from where they had fallen. There, crowding the bank, faces painted in fierce colours stared down at them. None of them looked friendly. Mitch groaned. “Those are warriors of the Seiko tribe” Pam said, as the twenty guardians glared at the intruders on their land. “They are mainly nomadic, roaming the abandoned hills of their ancestral lands and disregarding all government edicts. They are self-governing and proud. They alone know how to exist on the land, even while it dies around them. None of their people suffer. It is why outsiders have been searching for the tribes. Rumors have reached the cities that the tribes are not starving.”
Pam straightened and waved at the warriors and then spoke to them in their native tongue. Mitch didn’t understand a word of it. After an exchange that lasted a couple of minutes the faces disappeared. When they reappeared, ropes were tossed down into the pit. Pam rolled the bike over, chattering away as she tied ropes around the bike, securing it to be hauled up the slope. Once it was secure, the ropes tightened and the heavy bike began to move, inching its way up the steep incline. It disappeared over the edge and silence descended. Mitch shifted his feet, sweating under the sun that now beat down mercilessly, perfectly aligned to roast them alive.
Pam chattered again at the ridge, and was greeted with silence. Her voice sharpened and a face appeared over the edge, speaking just as sharply. Two ropes were tossed over the edge and Mitch caught his, grateful for the escape. He gripped the thick twine in his hands and began to climb the slope, relying more on his strength of arms than his legs as the sides crumbled away at the touch of his feet. Pam climbed beside him, and as they reached the edge, arms reached over and hauled them the rest of the way and onto firm ground. With a sigh of relief Mitch tried to push to his feet but was met with a spear at his throat. Swallowing carefully, he froze as a blade, sharp as any knife he had face in the alleys, pressed against his jugular.
Pam snapped a few words and the blade lifted from Mitch’s throat.
“Thanks,” he croaked.
Pam laughed. “For what? I told him that slaying a cop was bad karma, and he didn’t want to befoul the sacred soil beneath his feet. I think he is more worried about offending the land, than spilling your heathen blood.”
Mitch glared at his sister but held his tongue.
He was hauled to his feet by two burly youths that easily topped his height by a foot. He didn’t need any urging to follow the direction of the warriors away from the cliff face, limping slightly with the new rocks that had settled into the heel of his boot.
They trudged along a well-worn
path for about an hour, the sun setting at their backs. Just as the sun hit the horizon in the west, a village came into view. Tan tents embroidered with wildlife met his gaze. The figures were so life-like he had to look twice to realize they were stitched. An eagle in flight soared over wolves couching in tall grasses. Bison grazed nearby while an inquisitive prairie dog stood sentinel. Amazing scenes that had disappeared from the landscape. “Mitch looked around, bewildered. ‘How long have these people lived here? Why are they living like this?’
Pam glanced sideways at him. ‘The Seiko Tribe have lived here for generations. They’re nomadic and fiercely independent. They have roamed these abandoned hills of their ancestral lands for years, disregarding the government’s edicts. Because of their indigenous heritage, they are self-governing and proud. They know how to exist on the land, even while it died around them, and so none of their people suffered. That was a problem reserved for the cities.’ Mitch looked closely at the people as they watched them walk past. ‘Some of these people aren’t indigenous. I see lighter skin, and some much darker.’ Pam shrugged. ‘As people left the cities, some found their way here, and the Seiko welcomed them. They wanted a simpler lifestyle, free of government control, and the Seiko offered that. Not everyone can live like this, but those who can, become part of the tribe.”
Mitch felt a pang for what was already lost, for what they still had to lose. When he looked away from the artwork, he did not find a defeated people, however, but one that stood proud. A bustling community greeted the returning warriors, children running to meet their fathers, and young women running to hug lovers. Mitch was astonished that such a large community existed so far from civilization. It was obvious that this was a large, extended family that had worked hard to create such a feeling of solidarity and cooperative effort. Mitch couldn’t remember the last time he was part of an extended family, working towards a common goal.
Pam clucked and whooped and two children ran out from a nearby tent to greet her, glad cries filling the air. Twins, a boy and girl crowded into her arms as she crouched down to greet them, then she fell onto her back, bowled over by the force of their charge. Pam laughed and the years fell away from her face. She hugged and kissed them, then tickled their ribs while the warriors laughed and dispersed into the village, leaving them there with the motorbike, propped on its kickstand.
“What is this, Pam?”
“Welcome to Wapatipae. Welcome to the Village of Love. These are my adopted children. Come meet your niece and nephew.”
Nonplussed, Mitch crouched down by his sister, as giggles rent the air. They frolicked on the ground, shouting and pulling faces. The people passing by smiled at the trio. A bemused grin crept across his face as he observed their obvious affection for each other.
Chapter 8
Flight Of The Hunted
Peet and Alexa dashed down the alley that ran between the hospital and the multi-story parking garage. Peet stripped off his hospital scrubs and tossed them into a dumpster after pocketing his doctor’s badge in his pocket. The far end of the alley opened onto the main thoroughfare and the sound of sirens echoed down the narrow passage. Red lights flashed, reflected in the puddles that had formed in the drizzling rain.
Surprised at the unexpected shower, Alexa pulled up the hood of her sweater. Her body cooled as they hurried along the alley, the rain a welcome relief. Even as they ran, she could see the clouds parting and knew the rain would not be enough to end the gnawing drought that gripped the land. Peet lifted his face to the rain and let it flow over his face, soaking into his beard.
“Glorious,” he said, but suddenly pulled her behind a dumpster.
Alexa peeked around the edge of the metal wall. A squad car had turned into the alley, the engine a soft purr as it slowly inched along its length. At first, she thought it was the local police, but the colour of the car was all wrong. On the doors of the slick black doors was an insignia of the security wing of the government.
“Feds,” hissed Peet, pulling her deeper into the shadows cast by the container. “Nasty business. Come on, it’s time to go.”
He grabbed her hand and pulled her along behind him as the squad car pulled to a stop beside the container. Alexa looked forward and back. It was the only hiding place and a natural conclusion that someone or ones might be hiding behind it.
“Alexa.”
She looked up, tensed to run.
“Do you see that crack in the alley brickwork, just beyond the end of the car park? I want you to run to it and squeeze into the opening. On the count of three.” Peet shifted his weight, to shield her flight as the door of the squad car slammed and gravel crunched under a heavy foot. “One, two...THREE!”
Alexa shot out from behind the dumpster and ran like the hounds of hell snapped at her heels.
Peet watched her slide into the narrow door opening and then bolted out from behind the dumpster to the shouts of “Halt! Stop now or we will shoot!” Gun shots rang out and chunks of pavement burst into the air as the bullets sought contact with his fleeing frame. He zigzagged, randomizing his gait to throw off the chasing bullets, but it was a gambit with no promise of success. Just shy of safety Peet stumbled, as a bullet pierced his calf. He changed his fall into a dive, to take the weight off his burning leg. Airborne, he tumbled into the opening, coming up hard against the bricks, tumbling into the waiting Alexa and knocking her to the ground. He grabbed her arm before crawling out of range.
“Peet! You are bleeding!” Alexa gasped, as she placed a hand on his leg. A dark stain soaked the fabric and her fingers came away sticky with blood.
“Can you walk? Oh my god, Peet, you have been shot!”
Peet pushed himself to stand, and leaned back against the wall. The break was a narrow gap covered over with tin, bridging the two buildings and lined with garbage containers. He pulled Alexa along, limping to a window covered in metal grillwork. He pulled on the grating and it fell away under his touch. The block was rotten and crumbling. Another shove and the window swung in.
“Inside, now!” Peet picked up Alexa and feet first shoved her through the window.
She squealed as she fell through, landing on a filthy couch and tumbling off its back. Peet followed Alexa through the opening. His descent through the window was much less graceful, rolling to a painful stop on the floor. Alexa scrambled up and slammed the window shut, locking it. She wedged a broom handle under the lock, before helping Peet to his feet to limp off through a doorway to the right. They disappeared around the corner just as flashlights shone down into the room.
“Where are we? Did we just break into a house?”
“Shhh!”
Peet fished in his pocket for his keys. Dangling from the ring was a tiny pen light. He switched it on then limped over to a door on the opposite side of the kitchen where they found themselves. He placed his ear against the heavy door, listening hard. After a few seconds, he pulled open the door and motioned for Alexa to follow. A hallway, decorated with peeling flowered wallpaper, stretched away in both directions, with numbered doors. They were in the central hallway of an apartment building. Peet closed the door and hurried down the hallway. An exit sign flickered over a metal door with a panic bar at the end of the dimly lit hallway. Peet limped to the door and pushed it open, revealing a staircase climbing up to the front doors of the building. A squad car was parked out front, red and blue lights flashing. The car was empty.
“This way.” Peet grabbed her hand and pulled her through into the landing.
Ignoring the squad car, he took her down two flights of stairs. At the bottom was a brown painted door and a sign that announced the parking garage could be found on the other side of the building.
He pulled open the door and led Alexa over to their parked car, unlocking it with the key fob. Easing his way into the driver’s seat behind the wheel, he lifted his left leg into the car with a groan. In the dim light of an overhead fluorescent bulb, Alexa got a clear look at Peet. His ashen face was beaded in sweat
.
“We need to get you to a hospital, Peet!”
“No hospitals,” he said harshly. His voice softened and he squeezed her hand. “I will go see a doctor but it will be someone I trust. Pass me that towel.”
Alexa twisted around and grabbed a towel lying on the back seat, then handed it to Peet. He took it and mopped his face, then wrapped the towel around his leg, tying it into a knot over the gunshot wound.
“Ok, we are going to drive out of here. If we get stopped, I want you to pretend to be getting sick, ok? Just a father and his daughter heading out for the day. I want you to be a total brat, ok?”
Alexa smiled. “I am good at that.”
Peet’s mouth twitched. “I bet you are. Show me how good you are.”
He turned the key and the car roared to life. He started out at a leisurely pace, driving slowly around the bends as they climbed out of the car park. On the final turn, the underground parking door rolled up and brilliant sunshine greeted their eyes. Squinting past the glare, their eyes fell on two black cars parked at the street exit. Peet drove up and as the car leveled off and reached the government cars, a man in a dark suit stepped off the curb in front of Peet’s car and motioned for him to stop. He carried a hand gun in his right hand. His companion closed in on Alexa’s window.
“Begin whining now,” whispered Peet. He rolled down their windows. “Can I help you?”
Alexa put her hand over her mouth and moaned. As the second federal officer stepped up beside the car, she yelled, “Dad, I’m going to be sick!” She rolled down her window and leaned out, gasping.
The agent on Alexa’s side paused and stepped back.
“Get out of the car, both of you,” said the one at Peet’s window.
Alexa moaned and hung over the side of the car.
“I am not getting out the car. I am trying to get my daughter to her kidney dialysis appointment. Who the hell are you to tell me to get out of my car?” Peet hit the button to roll up the window but the agent grabbed the glass.
